


not very fast or slow, just soft and low

by crookedsaint



Series: tumblr minific prompts [3]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fill, a brief mention of suicidal ideation (not on behalf of either main character), and we were both girls, haha UNLESS, rated T for that and minor maincord-unfriendly language and innuendo!, what if we talked to each other on the phone whenever we found the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27892903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedsaint/pseuds/crookedsaint
Summary: "Jaylen took a walk every night, seven sharp, north on Third Street to the Embarcadero, and she called her girlfriend. Dreamy’s voice was never quite as crisp as she’d like, but it kept her warm in the evening chill. It always occurred to her to say something about cocktail hour in Hawaiʻi. She never said it."In which Jaylen Hotdogfingers has a normal evening, because doesn't she deserve one?
Relationships: Jaylen Hotdogfingers/Sutton Dreamy
Series: tumblr minific prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090748
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	not very fast or slow, just soft and low

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to @kosy for sending a prompt! this one is "things you said over the phone"
> 
> before i confuse anyone, this fic uses @waveridden's concept of a three-seasons-per-year blaseball schedule, leaving about fourteen days a year for offseason (or about five days off per year). for those curious, you can find all the math at waveridden.tumblr.com/post/636493543604715520/if-you-dont-mind-expanding-on-the
> 
> title from bless the telephone by labi siffre, which is also my recommended listening! enjoy!

It was almost easier, being an ocean apart. The offseason always felt at once empty and too-frantic, too-busy, filled to the brim with the things you put off when you know you have to get up early in the morning. Everyone wedged their petty drama and mental breakdowns and weddings into five short days. Which would be fine, if it weren’t the whole league sharing the same five days.

So Jaylen was grateful. She took a walk every night, seven sharp, north on Third Street to the Embarcadero, and she called her girlfriend. Dreamy’s voice was never quite as crisp as she’d like, but it kept her warm in the evening chill. It always occurred to her to say something about cocktail hour in Hawaiʻi. She never said it.

Tonight, she paused for a while by the Ferry Building. Let herself be another girl on a bench, on her phone with someone she loved, staring out at Treasure Island. Being a tourist wasn’t a crime, was it?

“It should be,” Dreamy said, her snicker crunching in the phone static.

“Point taken,” Jaylen said. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself. “I just think it’s romantic, is all. Sitting here on the docks. Puget Sound’s not nearly as picturesque this time of year.”

“If we want to talk about sunsets, I think I still win.”

“Sure, sure. We do the best with what we’ve got, Dreamy.” Jaylen snorted.

“We do, don’t we?”

“Hm?”

“It’s—this drink Collins made for me, sorry. I just think—”

“Repeat?”

“No, I didn’t get cut off that time. I just.”

“Come on, Dreamy. We’ve been through hell and back, you’re allowed some philosophizing.” Jaylen glanced at the diners to her right, pulling her cap a little lower. “God knows I never shut up about the necromancy shit.”

“That’s.” A pause, a little longer than just “I’m thinking” and barely toeing the line into “I want to break up.”

“You good, Dreams?”

“I am. I’m fine.” A faint breath. “Sometimes I wonder, though, if all we are doing is making the best of the end.”

As if noticing the mood, the second sun dipped below the skyline at that very moment, pushing the golden light to the other side of the bay and making Jaylen decidedly aware of how long she’d been sitting there in public. “Shit. I mean. If we’re doing honesty hour, I’m more worried about whether we’re making the best of a terrible grind until the end of time itself.”

“You and I both know this is an effect of your unique situation.”

Jaylen shivered. Whether from the cold or the conversation, it didn’t matter. “I know. But listen, it’s the off-season, anyway. You’re not going to die tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t make it better. I could die in two weeks, three weeks, three months, or eight years. I will still worry that I have not done—”

“Done what?”

“Enough. Enough to make it worthwhile.”

“What’s worthwhile even mean?” Jaylen dug her fingers into her phone case, feeling the too-slow pulse of her blood in her hands. “I know better than anyone what it’s like to wonder if you’re worth it. I decided I don’t care. We’re not here for anything other than whatever we want to do, otherwise we wouldn’t want things. No god’s stupid enough to give people impulses and then just tell them not to follow ‘em.”

The crackle of the phone line.

“Dreamy, you still there?”

“I should never try to lie to you, Jaylen.”

“Hmm?”

“I was being evasive.”

“No sh—”

“I just wonder if it’s enough. To do all this. You should find someone in San Francisco to talk to.” Another blast of static. “Really talk to.”

“What, a therapist or a girlfriend?” Jaylen laughed, the sound sharp enough to draw the attention of a few teenagers staring at the boats coming in. “Sorry. Uh.” She took a breath. “You know this is more than I could ask for, right?”

“You should ask for more before you die than someone’s voice over the phone and a few official social functions a year.”

“I sure could go for a private plane, sometimes.”

“Jaylen Hotdogfingers. You have more money than God. You could fly here if you wanted.”

“But I don’t, because I know this works, Dreamy! I don’t want this to be… You’ve told me how you feel about public relationships, and I get it. Word got out I dated Townsend, once, and you  _ know _ how that turned out.”

A beat. “I do.”

“Plus, you know, I’ve got Percy if I need. Well.” Jaylen rolled a curl of her hair between two fingers.

That seemed to break the tension, if the distant laughter on the other end of the line was any evidence. “Jaylen, we both know you could have whoever you wanted. I don’t feel inadequate, I just feel…”

“Like we’re biding our time? And we should both be dating more spectacularly awful people, because if you’ve gotta die by someone’s side, it’s nice if they’re enjoying themselves?”

“...Excuse me?”

“I knew a lot of theatre majors in college. The crossover with the kinesiology department is actually pretty significant.” Another glance around her. She frowned at the teen still staring at her, and stood, starting towards the street. “Listen. Making the best of a bad time doesn’t always mean party-til-you-die, no matter what the Dale tell you. I’ve done blaze-of-glory. I’m getting way more out of pleasant phone conversations.”

“Maybe you just like the brisk night air.”

“Right, yeah, I only love you for the excuse to freeze my ass off while dodging a bunch of electric skateboards.” She started back south, resigning herself to putting up with the teasing that taking the rest of this phone call where her roommates could hear would bring. The weather had shifted on a dime, like it always did. Jaylen may never get used to California’s—

“You love me.”

The way Dreamy stated it like a fact. “Of course I do.”

“Say it more often.”

And just like that, the warmth in her chest spread all the way to the tips of her fingers. “I will.”


End file.
